Lost and Found
by Whilom
Summary: Jack's missing. The last place Bobby took him was the supermarket, but it's already been confirmed that Jack is no longer there and the radio keeps blaring an announcement that two convicts have been seen in their area of town...
1. Lost

**A/N: **Dedicated to Brandi N. Jones. Because she did it for me. Random idea I had. Please review!

* * *

Bobby couldn't remember the last time he had felt like this. Oh, wait, he could. In fact, he could remember nearly every agonizing minute of it and he wanted to forget. He had just paused by the end of an aisle when an employee finally noticed his frantic look and asked, "Can I help you, sir?"

He turned to glare at the fresh-faced girl who seemed to shrink in the face of his frustration. "What?"

"Are you looking for something in particular?"

"Yeah, a kid. A kid about this high—" Bobby raised a hand just above his waist "—with fuzzy hair, scrawny, wearing a black sweatshirt. You seen him?"

"I'm sorry, perhaps you should alert the manager. He can call on the intercom for your…"

"Brother," Bobby quickly supplied, ready to continue searching on his own. Who needed store managers and employees who didn't give a— He broke from his mental tirade and waved a hand at the girl, explaining as he turned away that he would do fine, his brother would show up.

But Jack was good at hiding.

_Why would he do this?_ Bobby repeated for the thousandth time, wondering at the spirit that seemed to possess his little brother every so often, right after they'd just made some progress with him. He hadn't disappeared in a long time. Three months ago he would vanish weekly. Nobody knew where he was and they'd pretty much stopped caring once they found he would at least partially respect their rules and not leave the neighborhood. It had always turned out okay. Few thugs or dangerous people hung around the Mercers' section of town. And most knew better than to mess with a Mercer, even if he was a defenseless little guy with the biggest eyes Bobby had ever seen…

_Stop it, Bobby, you're making it worse. Just find the stinking kid and get him in the car. You can lecture him on the way home. Oh, boy, is he going to get a lecture…_

Bobby skidded to a halt, strode down an aisle and grabbed a kid by the shoulder, turning him around to see—not Jack. He didn't bother to explain or apologize. Hardly. He had to find Jack. There may not be thugs hanging around in their neighborhood, but that didn't mean they couldn't hang around in the local supermarket.

* * *

Jack twisted his hands in the inside pocket of his sweatshirt. Somehow he'd lost track of Bobby and now he was trapped in a maze of tall aisles and towering can pyramids which all looked the same. He tried not to make eye contact with the strangers that meandered through. Some looked at him curiously. Others shuffled by, grunting when they wanted him to move so they could grab something. Nobody had actually said anything to him until now.

He wasn't sure that he should trust his luck. Sure, the woman seemed nice enough. But he'd seen past a kind face before and still had the scars to prove it. She was crouching down, smiling a little and asking his name softly.

"Are you lost?"

Lost? No, of course not. He just couldn't find Bobby. But, really, any person could see the sign: they were in Aisle 12 with the tomato sauce jars. How could he be lost?

He shook his head.

The woman looked around. "Where are your parents?"

Parents? He'd never had any. Evelyn, sure, but she was just Ma. Not this formal word: "parents." And Bobby…well, Bobby couldn't really be considered a parent, but he was pretty close as far as authority went. Bobby would probably get angry if he started talking to someone strange. Jack could envision his older brother, coming around the aisle corner with that swagger of his that said just as clearly as the hard look on his face: "Stand back. I'm a Mercer."

"Listen, Beulah, let's go."

Jack's head jerked so hard he thought it might fly off his neck. A man who he thought had been shopping for grapefruit was looking at the woman kneeling in front of him impatiently. The man turned to Jack and said shortly, "Look, kid, are your parents around?"

Jack didn't move. He froze, but not because he was afraid. He was just wary, now, and he wanted even more than before to find Bobby. The man was impatient and looked like he could become angry very easily.

Tired of Jack's silence, the man scanned the produce section again. "He's here alone. They probably left without him. Come on, let's get going."

The woman sighed and stood up, taking Jack by the arm as she did so, not unkindly. "Come with us, sweetheart, and we'll help you find your mom and dad," she said, leading him after the man as they headed to the front doors.


	2. Gas Station

**A/N:** Dedicated to **Torilei** for her ideas and to all my readers who have waited (and waited...and waited) for this next chapter to finally be written. Enjoy, and please review! They really do inspire and make the next chapters come faster. Also, I'm going on vacation, so I should be able to write lots...

* * *

The steering wheel was taking a battering. It had been squeezed and hit and jerked around until it was nearly ready to fall off. The only reason it was still in place was Bobby had his fingers wrapped around it, flexing them until they hurt.

Jack was gone.

He had gone to the store manager, finally, and had them call over the intercom for Jack Get-Your-Rear-Over-Here Mercer. Bobby knew Jack was smart; he would follow the directions radioed over the speakers and find Bobby at the checkout.

But Jack hadn't come.

Under Bobby's forceful glare and a few colorful phrases, most of the store's employees had fanned out, taking each aisle at a time to look for the kid. Bobby had almost demanded a lock-down, nobody in or out, until they found Jack. But after fifteen minutes of searching and nothing coming up besides disgruntled customers, Bobby left.

In a way he almost hoped that Jack wasn't there. He had told Jack he would never leave him and he would hate to break his promise, even if he did so unwittingly. But the largest part of his anxious heart hoped, prayed, that Jack was just hiding very well and someone would call the Mercer residence to report he had turned up later on this evening.

The radio droned in the background and Bobby turned it up, not caring what it was so long as it drowned out his worried thoughts. "…icy roads. Another thing to look out for this evening: two convicts have supposedly escaped from prison and are rumored to be in the Detroit area. Families should be on the watch for these two, and keep a sharp eye on the kids. Beulah and Don have been known to keep children for ransom. The last incident concerning Beulah and Don, two years ago, involved a young boy whose whereabouts have yet to be discovered. The boy, they say, is not dead to their knowledge, but was sold to drug—"

The radio was abruptly cut off. Bobby's trembling hand hovered over the knob just a moment as he swallowed thickly, and then he drew in a shuddering breath. Jack was smart. Jack was smart. He was street-wise. He could take care of himself. He'd lasted for years in foster care. He'd survived attacks on his emotions, his childhood, his happiness. He could survive this.

There was no doubt in Bobby's mind where Jack was now. _He's__ with those two…_ Bobby could hardly finish his thought coherently. He had no idea how he was going to get Jack back, but he would die trying.

* * *

"Come on," the man growled, tugging at Jack's jacket and jerking him along.

For the first fifteen minutes he had let the woman hold his hand as they walked along the street, ducking into alleys and running on the other side, then going back again when there was a dead-end. It was like they were trying to throw someone off their trail, but Jack couldn't imagine anyone following them. But now Don had his hand wrapped around Jack's shoulder and was much rougher than Beulah had been.

And they were definitely not going to find his parents. Jack had known that the moment the woman had mentioned it. He didn't have any parents and Bobby was in the store, not outside or in a dark alley. He hadn't been lost. These people had made up excuses for him and then dragged him outside, glad that his quiet state lent an edge to their ploy. As long as the kid wasn't screaming, they could pretend most anything with him.

"One big happy family," Don had chuckled, obviously delighted at the ease of their prey. "He'll be an easy hand-off. Hardly any convincing we'll have to do. The kid speaks for himself, don't you?" Jack had grit his teeth at the way Don rubbed his hair. Bobby could do that, someone he could trust, but not this man. "Just don't talk until I tell you and we won't have any problems."

After a while they turned into an alley and got into a van parked at the end of it. Jack climbed into the backseat and buckled his seatbelt without anyone telling him to, knowing that Bobby would have made him do it even if Bobby wasn't here. He must have fallen asleep because he opened his eyes to see they had stopped outside an unfamiliar and deserted-looking gas station. Both Don and Beulah got out of the van and escorted Jack to a phone booth. Don fished in his pocket for a few quarters, muttering all the while. He fed them into the machine and then turned to Jack. "What's your number, kid?"

Jack stayed stubbornly silent.

"Your phone number, what is it?"

Don was still looking at him expectantly, but when Jack still didn't answer he narrowed his eyes.

"I'm warning you, kid, you tell me the number now or you're going to be doing it through bleeding lips."

"Don," the woman objected, moving to stand behind Jack.

"Alright. You want to punch it in?" Don handed the phone to Jack and moved away so that Jack could push the buttons. Jack lifted the receiver to his ear, holding it with two hands because of its weight, and closed his eyes. He liked phones. He liked listening intently for the dial tone, and then the sound of the phone connecting, and then the rings which sent small shivers of anticipation into his stomach as he waited for the surprise of who was going to pick up the line…

"Is anyone there?" Don barked impatiently, jerking Jack from his thoughts.

"Wait a second," Jack said quietly, licking his lips. The danger hadn't settled in—not yet. Not until now. He was somewhere he didn't know with people he didn't know. For the first time in years he was without at least one of his brothers and he wasn't safe. The thought scared him more than a little, more than it had when he was used to it, before Evelyn.

"Hello?"

It was Angel.

Jack gulped to hold back the quick tears and held the phone even tighter. "Angel, it's Jack."

Don's face broke into a rare smile. "Tell him where you are."

"Um, Angel, I'm at a gas station."

"What? Jack, what are you doing? Where's Bobby?"

"Tell him we want money."

Jack's face paled at Don's prompting. "Angel," he whispered into the phone, "they want money."

He could almost feel Angel's urgency over the phone. "Jack, who are you with and where are you? I'm coming to pick you up. Where's Bobby, put him on the phone."

"Bobby's not here, Angel." Jack's voice quivered. "Please…please…"

Jack heard Angel sigh as though frustrated. He knew that Angel could tell he was scared and couldn't do anything about it. Jack didn't even know what he wanted to ask, but he also knew that Angel understood.

"Put them on the phone, the people you're with." Angel must have known that Jack hesitated because he continued, "Come on, Jackie. Put 'em on. I want to talk to them."

Don took the phone from Jack's outstretched hands and answered as though talking to an old friend, smacking on a piece of gum. "Yeah?"

Jack could only hear one part of the conversation, but he gathered from the angry light in Don's eyes that Angel was cursing the man out and probably threatening him too. When Don was finally able to speak, the conversation was harder to follow.

"Yeah, that's right. A ransom. I'm sure you've heard the phrase before…. Ten thousand. _Cash_…. I'm not making any promises. He's alive for now, that's all I'm saying…. Within the hour, or Jack here is going to take a hit. And no cops. Hear me? The kid's life is at stake here, got it? That gives you until ten."

Don hung up the phone and turned to Jack again, still smacking. "Looks like we're waiting here for a bit. Don't get any ideas." He led the way back to the van. "It doesn't pay to have any ideas."


	3. Jerry Can Give Two

Angel jumped when the front door slammed. He whipped around, phone still in his hand, and found himself face to face with his older brother.

"Bobby—" he began but was cut off when Bobby put out a hand, shaking with anger.

"Give me the phone, I've got to call Ma."

"She's on that retreat—"

"Give me the phone, Angel!"

Wordlessly, Angel handed the phone to Bobby who worked his jaw, glaring between Angel and the phone, and then slammed it down in the cradle as his eyes rolled to the ceiling in frustrated exasperation. "You're right. She wouldn't get the call." He paced the hallway and then collapsed on the couch, his head in his hands. Angel followed him and stood, arms folded, until Bobby was ready to tell the whole story.

Only a few seconds later, Bobby muttered through his fingers, "You didn't ask where Jack is."

"He called."

Bobby was on his feet in a flash, gripping Angel's shoulders. "Is he okay? Did he say where he was?"

"He's at a gas station, middle of nowhere." Angel was silent for a minute, not meeting Bobby's eyes although he knew that his older brother was itching to shake the truth out of him. The truth was not pretty. With a sigh he acceded, "There was a guy there, Bobby. With Jack." He gestured helplessly, making himself look at his brother's face. Bobby's hands were clenching and unclenching but his fingers were trembling with an emotion that Angel knew wasn't fear. His head was bent but Angel could see a muscle knot in Bobby's jaw.

"We have to get him."

"How?"

"You talk to the guy?"

"Yeah." Angel shook his head. "He set a steep price."

"Money, then." Bobby started pacing again. "They want money. They're willing to give him up."

"Bobby," Angel reasoned, "of course they want money, it's not like they would want _Jack_. I mean, he's just a kid, he's—" Bobby's glare made him stop midsentence and think about what he was saying. Yes, Jack was just a kid. He was a young, vulnerable, innocent, beautiful boy. Alone. In Detroit.

"Oh, shoot…" he whispered.

"How much?"

"Ten thousand. In cash, before ten p.m."

Bobby nodded.

"How are we going to do it, Bobby?" Angel asked in a low voice, not out of disbelief, but in a tone that said he was ready—ready to do whatever it took, _anything_ it took, to get the money to get Jack.

"How much is in Ma's account?" Bobby countered.

"Half that."

"We'll take it all. She'd do it for Jack." More pacing. "Jerry?"

"We'd have to ask. But he has a family, man."

"Jack is family. Jack _is_ our family. We wouldn't be half of what we are without him."

More pacing. More angry exhalations. More muttered curses.

"I have a thousand," Angel admitted.

"I have two." Bobby quickly tallied on his fingers. "That's eight. We need two more. Jerry can give two."

"Jerry has a—"

"If I can give two, Jerry can give two!"

Angel put up his hands, unwilling to fight. In the state Bobby was in, it was difficult to make him discern between friend and foe, much less foe and family. _Jack is our family_. That was true. And with family in danger, Bobby was quickly falling apart.

"Alright, we'll talk to Jerry."

Bobby grabbed the keys and headed instantly for the door, Angel in tow.

* * *

"I don't have two."

It had been the shortest drive to Jerry's house that Angel had ever taken, but now it had run into a dead end.

"Come on, Jerry, just give us the money!"

"I don't have two thousand dollars, Bobby!"

_"For Jack!"_ Bobby bellowed and Angel was surprised the pictures weren't falling from the walls.

Jerry bent his head and worked his jaw, but his answer was still the same. "I'll help you do what you need to do, Bobby. But I can't give what I don't have."

"Camille know you don't have two thousand dollars in your account?" Angel questioned, earning a glare from Bobby.

"I'm doing what is best for our family. I'm having some financial issues right now, but they'll be worked out soon."

"We don't have 'soon', we don't even have 'later', Jerry, we only have _now_ until ten o'clock and then the whistle blows for Jack! I don't know what they're going to do, but if it's even _close_ to what I'm envisioning, we're going to have to find some money for butcher knives, rope, and a shovel to dig six feet deep with because I am _not_ going to give up my little brother to some scum-low maniacs who think they've hit it big!" Bobby breathed deeply to quiet the tremor in his voice and whispered harshly, "I am not giving up my little brother. That's it."

Bobby turned to leave but was stopped by Jerry's quiet voice. "We bringing in the cops, Bobby?" Bobby turned, Angel with him. Jerry stood. "I know you hate it, but it's what needs to be done. Situations like these, they don't just go away. You think you might handle it this time, but what about next time someone comes looking for Jack? You can't keep him under your nose all the time, he couldn't live that way and neither could you. You know that, man. We have to do what's best for Jack."

Bobby looked between his brothers. "Angel?"

"I'm with Jerry on this one."

There was a moment of tense silence. Then Bobby asked, "Where's your phone?"


	4. Gas Station 2

**A/N: **Well, longest chapter and second to last. ;) Hope you've enjoyed the journey.

* * *

Jack huddled on the floor of the van and blocked out the sound of Don and Beulah bickering. Their voices had risen in sound and intensity over the past twenty minutes and the thing that would have stopped their fighting was nowhere in sight: money.

"Don't you dare, Don, he's just a child!" Beulah shouted.

"He's a kid like any of the other kids we've met, so why choose this one?" Don bellowed back.

"He's different."

"He's got you wrapped around his finger! Those big eyes in that small face, they're just calling at you to let him go scot free!"

Beulah didn't answer for a moment, then she said, "We'll find someone else. A different one."

"No. We have this one, and we're keeping him until the money gets here." Don checked his watch. "Which should be happening in the next hour or so. So we'll sit tight." He shot a glare at Jack who had looped his fingers around his sweatshirt strings. "Where's your brother, Jack? Huh? Where is he with my money?"

"I don't know," Jack said quietly, scooting back as far as he could. Don chuckled and took a swig from a beer can. He'd had quite a few, Jack didn't know how many, but it was part of the reason Don was yelling. The other part was the money. Which brought Jack's mind full circle: Where was Angel? Or Jerry? Or Bobby?

Where was Bobby?

Because that's who Jack really expected to show up. Sure, they'd talked to Angel. But Bobby would be looking for him, and Bobby was always there to help him first, before anybody.

He jumped when Don opened the van door and stumbled out, swearing—and wielding a gun. "I'm sick of waiting here!"

* * *

Bobby strode forward to meet Lt. Green in the parking lot only a block away from the gas station. "Good to see you, Thaddeus."

Angel and Jerry snickered as Green cleared his throat. "Nice to see you too, Bobby. But I'd appreciate it if you didn't use my first name," he added in an undertone which Bobby blithely ignored.

"So, where's my brother?"

"Just down the way. Look, Mercer, we do this my way or we don't do it at all," Green cautioned. "Got that?"

"Sure, so long as you're carrying a loaded gun, I'm happy. Me and my brothers brought some too."

Green shook his head. "No. You can come and park yourselves by the squad car, but you're not getting any closer than that."

Bobby moved closer and said in a low voice, "Look, Thad, I thought I made it pretty clear to whoever was on the phone that I wanted to be in on the action but I wanted police backup."

"Police aren't backup for civilians, Bobby."

"No, aren't they? Funny, 'cause they always seem to be behind me, sirens and all," Bobby cut in with a dangerous edge to his voice. "But the Mercers aren't your normal everyday laymen, either, alright? I can handle myself."

"This isn't about you handling yourself, Bobby. This is about keeping the hostage alive."

The thought made Bobby pause. "Jack's going to be fine."

Green sighed. "Yeah, sure, Bobby, I've seen your brother and he's a good kid and all." He shrugged. "But he's not street smart. He's the musician of the family, the crazy artist. And he's a _kid_."

"Well, whatever he is, crazy musician or not, I'm going to get him. And judging by the fact that you're here, you want to help."

Green looked away wearily and then met Bobby's determined gaze. Let Mercer have his way. He didn't want to fight him and the criminals. "Alright, fine."

Bobby nodded once. "Good. Let's get going." He raised his voice and waved an arm to get the other two squad cars' attention. "Let's go! Big Bad Thad is on a roll!"

Green covered his face with a hand, groaning under his breath. Once they caught the criminals, he was going to kill Robert Mercer.

* * *

Beulah watched helplessly as Don dragged the boy out of the van and shoved him to the asphalt. The kid instantly curled into a ball, but it was the empty look in his eyes that was frightening. This had happened before. Not _this_, maybe, but he'd been treated like this before. The thought made her want to protect him. But Don had the gun, loaded and ready, and he wouldn't hesitate to knock her around or even use it on her if he felt like it, especially when drunk. She wouldn't do anything, not even for this kid, not even for this innocent little boy….

Don hauled Jack to his feet and jerked the kid's face so he was looking up at him. "Where's my money?" he shouted. When the kid didn't answer, he backhanded him. The boy's lack of response was disturbing, even to Don. There was blood trickling from his temple where he had hit the asphalt, and blood gathering in the corner of his mouth where he had been hit, but he said nothing. Not one word. He didn't even cry.

"This kid is too much for me," Don muttered to himself, glancing wildly between the van and the boy. The money wasn't here. It was just before ten. They weren't coming with his money but he couldn't have this kid running around to tell about him. He cocked the pistol with his thumb and hesitated for a moment. Then he fired.

Bobby heard the shot from his car and instantly shoved the door open, yelling at Angel and Jerry to get out too. Lt. Green and the other squad cars pulled up just in front of them, pulling out guns and using their doors as shields.

"Freeze!" Green bellowed, training his gun on the man standing over two huddled lumps, one of which looked suspiciously like Jack.

"Jack!" Bobby shouted, beginning to run. When Green stopped him Bobby tried to shove past him. "Let me go!"

"Bobby, stop it! Get in your car."

"No! That freak shot my little brother, he's dead! I'm going to kill him!"

"Get in your car!"

_"No!"_

"That gun may still be loaded, he could shoot you too!"

"I don't care!"

A swift punch to the jaw sent Green sprawling for a moment, but he was fast to tackle Bobby again. They both hit the ground, Green on top. Don saw the mayhem and took advantage of the confusing situation. Hauling Jack up by his hair, he pulled the kid against him and shoved the muzzle of his gun against Jack's neck.

"You here with my money?" he yelled to the surrounding cop cars. "You bring me what I asked for?"

At the sound of the man's slurred voice, Bobby fought to his knees until Green pulled his arm around his back and forced him down again. "One move, Mercer, and I swear you'll feel the butt of my gun to your head."

Bobby pounded a fist into the asphalt and groaned in frustration. Then he looked up. Jack was staring at him as best as he could. Don's grip on Jack's hair made it hard for Jack to look any way but up, but he was trying. Bobby noticed he had even moved to place his head closer to the gun's muzzle so he could look.

"Jackie," he whispered, a sob catching in his throat.

Jack's eyes were strange, different than he had ever seen them—empty. But when Bobby whispered his name, something moved in Jack's eyes. "Bobby!"

Galvanized into action by the child's scream, Green ordered his men, "Move!"

"Drop the gun! I repeat, drop the gun!"

"Put your hands up!"

Don moved back, Jack whimpering as he stumbled backwards. "Nobody move or I'll shoot! I'm expecting Jack's brother!" he called. "He here?"

Bobby stopped struggling and twisted his head to look at Green out of the corner of his eye. "Please?"

Jack could feel Don's surprise when three figures came striding in answer to his call, illuminated by the headlights. He allowed a small smile on his face. Don hadn't expected three brothers to come after him for their little brother. He wanted to stay awake for the end, but everything kept swirling around.

"Stop right there."

Bobby, Angel, and Jerry paused as Don cocked the gun.

"Stop. You have what I want? You got my money?"

"You got our brother, then fine, we'll pay you what you've earned," Bobby replied. "And he better not be hurt."

"He's here. He didn't get shot." Don waved an arm vaguely in the direction of the other lump on the ground which turned out to be a woman. "Shot her instead. But I want the money. Give me the money first." Don licked his lips nervously, sweat beading his forehead.

"Hand me the kid, and we'll pay you."

"No."

Bobby's voice grew harder. "Give me my brother."

"No!"

Jerry put a restraining hand on Bobby's shoulder when Don pushed with the gun. Jack whimpered when he felt the cold metal push harder against his neck. Bobby could see the indentation it was making on the soft skin and his heart rate rose in response. This man would not get off easy.

"Fine," Jerry said. "Fine. Angel?"

Angel threw a filled pillowcase a few feet away, just out of reach. Don looked between the men, visibly shaking. "How do I know it has the money?"

Angel shrugged. "Guess you'll just have to go get it to find out."

It was clear that the beer was working havoc on the man's system along with whatever drug he had taken last. But that didn't stop the cruel smile that played on his face when he asked, "And what if I take little Jackie here with me?"

That was it. Bobby lunged forward at the sound of his pet name for his brother on this man's lips. A gun went off. There were shouts and orders as the cops went in. A cry of surprise and then a call for an ambulance when they saw that a woman was huddled on the ground. The sound of flesh hitting flesh. The click of handcuffs. A siren wailing and tires crunching on the asphalt as one of the cars drove away, criminal secure inside. An ambulance came to load up the woman, check for injuries on the four civilians involved.

Lt. Green put a hand on Bobby's shoulder, noting that Don had looked much worse off than the oldest Mercer. "Not a scratch," he commented.

"How do you think I survived in Detroit for so long?" Bobby returned wryly.

"Jack okay?"

Bobby sobered. "Yeah, he's fine. I'll take care of him."

"You sure, we can call the ambulance back and check him over?"

"No." Bobby shook his head decisively. "I want him at home. Where he belongs."

Green nodded and Bobby cracked his trademark grin. "Thaddeus Green strikes again."

"Bobby, you'd just better shut your face or I will—"

Bobby raised his hands, chuckling at the detective's ire, and moved away to join his brothers. He scanned Jack's prone figure sleeping in Angel's arms before he opened the car door and started the engine, Jerry and Angel getting in behind him.

"Alright, boys. Let's go home."


	5. Found

**A/N: Finis. ;)** My first chaptered story that I have actually ended!

**

* * *

**

The clock read 1:27 in red lights. Bobby's mind was still too hazy and nightmare-ridden to recognize the numbers, but the lights triggered something in his memory. He muttered Jack's name and swung his legs over the side of the bed, half-jogging, half-stumbling to Jack's room. He paused just before he opened the door and then turned the knob, his eyes afraid of what he might see. Jack, a bloody mess like in his dreams. Jack, too scared to talk or say anything. Jack, his eyes empty and hopeless. Jack…sleeping soundly, arms flung up over his head and legs tangled in the blankets in sweet abandon.

Bobby sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes before quietly sitting on the edge of Jack's bed. His eyes swept Jack's figure, catching on the bruising near his jaw and the butterfly bandages near his temple. Evelyn had been told the whole story before they left with Lt. Green and was ready with a First-Aid kit when they came home. Still, there were some things that Band-Aids didn't always heal. His glance fell on the bruise on Jack's neck where the gun had been pressed and his nightmare came back to him in a rush. "Jackie, you're fine," he whispered, leaning over to press his forehead against Jack's, needing to feel his warm breath against his face. "It's okay." The words might have been directed at his little brother, but it was Bobby who needed their comfort and the calming touch of that feathery hair under his hand.

"I know, Bobby," came Jack's sleep-slowed whisper. Bobby felt Jack wince when his hand touched the cut near his temple but he didn't pull away. Instead he put a hand up to try and hug Bobby. In his sleepy state, he was only able to reach up to Bobby's shoulder, but it was enough.

Bobby swallowed back the tears that would have been such a relief to sob out and replied, "Right, kid. Sleep well, Jack."

Jack mumbled something incomprehensible and Bobby smiled, touching Jack's hair one last time before he got up and returned to his bedroom. He rolled back into bed and closed his eyes. It was okay; everything was fine and would heal. Jack was found. In the dark, Bobby silently promised,_ I will never lose you again_.


End file.
